In which Hannah learns about life and death

Hannah has had some tough ones in recent months, in compassion and empathy and now grief. Since September I have been caring for my aunt who had dementia. Sometimes Hannah came with me and some days it was really hard. It was horrible for her on the days that the loved one she always called Nanna was cranky and snapped at her (those days were heartbreaking for me too), but it was also difficult on the days when her mind was completely absent and she rambled on about stuff that made no sense and somehow we had to find ways to reply to this nonsense without patronising or ridiculing her. Hannah struggled to forgive her for the snappiness, but we learnt a bit about how the brain works (thank you Royal Institution Christmas Lectures...very timely!) and talked about what we thought might be going on in Auntie's brain. We talked about how we would feel when she died and why it was important not to hang on to grudges. We wanted to be able to say afterwards that we had done our best and been at peace with her.

Hannah helped me feed her with gentleness and dignity. She managed not to laugh when Auntie told her the oranges and lemons needed to get back in contact with the gorilla...not in her presence anyway. Even when she was  invited to play with her friend who lived next door, she made a point of running in to say hello and give her Nanna a kiss.

On Saturday night Auntie managed to set some furniture on fire and I took her to hospital. No damage done, according to tests but they agreed to keep her in because of some concern about her kidneys. My mum and Hannah came up to see her, which I didn't want at the time but am glad she did have that last opportunity to see her. On Sunday, she died.

We have cried a lot, looked at photos and mementoes of her life and cried some more. Some people around us find tears and sadness uncomfortable, but I have always wanted Hannah to understand and accept her feelings as part of her, something to be expressed not locked away. The only real way to the other side of grief is through it.


I suspect it will be contraversial that Hannah is not only attending the funeral but giving a part of the eulogy. I firmly believe in in not excluding children from our rites and rituals; of course the rest of the family children will be at school but I could get her looked after by a  friend if I wanted to. But she wants the chance to say goodbye to her Nana. I will be giving the main it of the euology, but I asked her if she wanted to say something and she did. She sat down today and wrote this:

Nana was very kind, loving and friendly and she was just like a Nana to me. I have two of my own but I loved her just as much. She meant so much to me and my mum. She was like a mum to her. When I was a baby, our heating broke, but we went to Nana's house and Nana let us stay over and Nana looked after me. I loved her very much, god rest her soul.